But the doorbell rings, and the sharp sound zips through his spine, cutting his words off like the edge of a cliff.
“Oh, hon, relax,” Aunt Nora says, getting up from the table. She’s no doubt confusing his real anxiety with the anxiety of going back to school.
But Thad can’t relax, not with his internal security system bleat-ing Danger! Danger! As soon as she’s out of the kitchen, he jerks to standing, his chair toppling over, his thigh knocking the table a few inches off center. That’ll leave a bruise.
He hears them talking. “Dirk! You look so good.”
“NORA! GREAT TO SEE YOU.” His voice is louder than any person’s should be. It’s like his volume has been turned up to eleven.
“Come in! Please!”
“LOVE TO.”
He hears the whooshing sound of a jacket against a sweater. The squeezy breaths of an embrace. The gentle thwack-thwack of the friendly back pats.
“Can I get you some tea?”
“HERBAL IF YOU HAVE IT.”
Thad’s muscles unfreeze and he rushes toward the back of the house, to his mom’s room. He cracks open the door. She’s sleeping.
“Thad?” Aunt Nora calls him. “Where are you?”
He can’t hide. He looks down at his hand, bare without the skating gloves. If this school security officer doesn’t already know that he broke the window, this will definitely give it away.
Thad jams his hands into his jeans pockets and walks out slowly.
“Hi,” he says. The man’s eyes are too light blue, like an interrogation light is shining through them. His face is fleshy and heavy. His nose points downward, the corners of his mouth droop toward his chin, his eyebrows are low. Everything about him seems weighted down.
“THADDEUS,” the man says.
Thad pulls his gaze away, settling his stare on a square shape in the linoleum floor. He wonders what will come next. Thaddeus Bell, you have the right to remain silent.
But the man says, “OFFICER DIRK MEADOWS HERE, BUT CALL ME OFFICER DIRK. IT’S AN HONOR TO MEET YOU.”
Thad’s eyes flicker back up to the man’s, and then straight down again.
Officer Dirk extends his right hand.
Crap.
So much for hiding his scraped-up hand. He thinks about bolting again, but knows it would make things worse. Might as well face reality.
He draws his right hand out of its pocket. But before he can reach it toward its fate, Officer Dirk’s hands clap into his shoulder blades, pulling Thad into him. It takes him a second to realize this is a hug.
“YOU LOOK JUST”—the loud voice cracks right into Thad’s ear—“LIKE HIM.”
And just as soon as the hug has started, it’s over. He leans away from Thad, takes a sniffly breath through his nose, and asks Nora about that herbal tea.
Aunt Nora smiles. “Peppermint or lemon ginger?”
“DEFINITELY LEMON GINGER.”
“Well, have a seat.”
Officer Dirk pulls a chair away from the table and swings it around. He sits down, straddling the chair, and looks up at Thad, who is standing hesitantly on the other side of the table.
“WHAT ABOUT YOU.”
Thad pauses. He looks over at Aunt Nora.
“Oh, Dirk, I can never get him to drink tea.”
“NOT EVEN WITH HONEY.”
Even Officer Dirk’s questions sound like proclamations. Thad wonders how he gets through life without question marks. Does he declare directions when he gets lost? Does he command friends to come over, women to go out on dates with him?
Nora laughs gently. “Nope, not even with honey.”
“I HEAR YOU’RE COMING TO SCHOOL SOON.”
“Oh.” Thad stiffens. The answer, he’s decided, is no, but he gets the feeling that may be the wrong one. And maybe is too wishy-washy for this Proclamation Man. And yes? Well, that’s just a bold-faced lie.
Aunt Nora bails him out. “We’ve been talking about it.” She brings two teacups over to the table. “Now, speaking of school”—she looks at Thad—“don’t you have some work to get to?”
Relief. “Yes!” He knows he sounds way too happy about schoolwork, but he’s grateful for this exit. Suddenly he feels exhausted. “Well, nice meeting you,” he says to Officer Dirk, dipping his face a little.
Officer Dirk nods. “A PLEASURE.”
Thad turns to the stairs.
“HEY, THAD.”
Is this the moment he springs it all on him? I know what you did, he’ll say in that eighteen-point-font voice.
Thad turns back to face him, but moves in slow motion.
Officer Dirk’s searing eyes lock on to Thad’s. He takes a sip of his lemon-ginger tea. And says, “SEE YOU SOON.”
And even though Dirk’s voice is as PA-system as ever, his words are subtle.
Does he know?
Oh, he knows. He’s got to. Those eyes. That look.
Thad goes upstairs to his room. Despite the chatter downstairs, and the occasional statement of laughter—a practical war cry of “HA, HA, HA” over the tinkling giggles of his aunt’s—he’s worried. He doesn’t know—in his head, that is—that Officer Dirk knows what he’s done, but he feels it in the center of his stomach.
It’s just a matter of when the guy will strike.
yo veo
tú ves
ella ve
nosotros vemos
ellos ven
For the first part of the next week—three whole days!—I heed Thad’s advice and go Nick-less. I avoid his locker hall. I make sure to take different routes to my classes, which involves me being two minutes late to Biology for two consecutive days, and getting a detention warning for the criminal act of Being in Love. Okay, technically, it’s tardiness, but there would be no tardiness if there were no love, at least in my case.
And then Nick happens to walk into my class as I am drawing a penis.
Maybe I should state it this way: Girl, 13, Suffers Coronary Attack While Diagraming Anatomical Penis During Family-Life Education Unit. Services to Be Held in Cafetorium After Final Bell on Wednesday.
Of course, I am not the only person drawing a penis. We are all drawing penises and THIS IS FOR A GRADE. Anyone caught laughing or expressing merriment of any sort is immediately sent to the back of the room, so the only people currently located in the regular part of the room are me (because I’m too mortified to laugh); Kipper, who is his usual serious self, tackling the assignment with earnestness and a mind for science; and Ti-Ti, a new student from Vietnam who doesn’t yet understand this kind of English. She’s innocent and sweet, and seems to think we’re still studying worms. If only, Ti-Ti. If only.
So, Nick walks into the room, and Ms. Frederick looks up. “Can I help you with something, Nick?”
“O-oh, I—” he sort of stutters, “I’m looking for my jacket. I think I left it here last period.”
Brian Stead belts out a laugh. “Your last period? Did you also leave your tampon?”
The class erupts in laughter, and Ms. Frederick stands up and starts yelling how the HUMAN REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEM IS A BEAUTIFUL THING and that if Brian thinks Nick has a period, then he really should be paying attention in class, which only makes the class laugh louder. Nick shrinks a little more in the front of the room.
And then Charlotte Wang says, “Shut your traps, you guys.”
And Parker Berry says, “Yeah, seriously.”
Shut up. Yeah, seriously. It’s been five days since the article about the window was posted. Could this be the power of the press at work? After a full week of hearing him being teased, these words are like the social equivalent of being elected class president. Or treasurer, at least.
And Abby Newton holds up a black jacket and asks, “Is this it?”
Nick nods, and goes to the back of the room to collect it from her.
And Brian says, “Check the pockets!” just loud enough for everyone to hear. But then his words are followed by an “Ow!” Brian rubs his ear and turns around.
“You flicked me in the ear,” he says to Charlotte, who sits behind him.
“Well, leave him alone. You’re the big baby,” Charlotte says to him as Ms. Frederick starts yelling that ANYONE WHO CANNOT GET ALONG WILL BE SEPARATED and I look at Nick. The fact that someone stuck up for him—flicked Brian’s ear on his account, even—seems to be setting in. He looks surprised, almost hopeful.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s a flutter of a smile on his face before he’s hurried out of the classroom by Ms. Frederick.
The power of the press. It’s happening! Take that, Jason Murray. Take that, Abe Mahal.
At lunch, I see Nick sitting at the end of his old lunch table. There’s an empty seat between him and Abe, but at one point, when Abe gets up for something, Patrick slides his tray toward Nick so that he can grab a few Tater Tots.
So it may not be the offering of a firstborn, like when Raquel brought her baby to her childless sister, Gisel, so that, after years of feuding, Gisel could raise him as her own. But still, it’s an offering, if not a truce.
I nudge Sirina. “Patrick just gave Nick a Tater Tot!”
She looks at me, tucking her chin back. “Okay, well, I just gave Jordan a Dorito, so…”
“Ha-ha,” I say.
“Oh, guess what? O.M.D.C., I thought I saw Ariana checking Nick out today,” Amelia says. Which isn’t helpful.
Ariana. I seethe inside. I look at Sirina for help. For strength.
“So what?” she says. “Maybe people are starting to be nice to him again. Since the article came out. Unintended side effect, I guess.” Then she looks right at me. “It was unintended, right?”
“Pretty much,” I say.
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, it was nice to be able to give him some positive press. It’s no different than what you did for Kipper.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never been quote-unquote in love with Kipper!”
She’s saying that now, too?
“Well,” I say. “He was our key witness. I’m just saying, I’m glad it helped a little. I hated to see him suffer.”
“Well, you better get over that soon,” she says, her forehead crinkling. “You haven’t somehow conveniently forgotten about the plan, have you?”
“Noooo,” I say. “It would be kind of hard to forget that I’m supposed to break Nick’s heart, Sirina.”
Or at least go along with the plan until I have Nick back for good. Until Thad and Sirina are finally happy for us—until they finally believe in love. Without quotation marks.
After school, Sirina and I are walking to our locker when we spot Nick down the hall.
“Is he—” I stop so quickly that someone almost knocks me over from behind. I don’t know if what I see is real or just a mirage, like the ones Aurelio sees of his lost love, Ana, while he’s out there in the desert. “At our locker?”
“He is,” Sirina says. “It’s like he’s waiting for us. I wonder what he wants.”
To tell me he’s made a big mistake? That he still pines for me? That he meant every single bit of that “me too”?
When he sees us, he stands up a little straighter. “Hey,” he says, as we approach. He looks right at me. “Can I talk to you?”
Of course of course of course! says my heart.
But wait.
Ignore ignore ignore, says Thad’s voice in my head.
Gah. This is too hard!
“It’s about the article,” he adds.
Oh. The article. Right. So, not undying love after all. I deflate.
But Sirina looks alert. “What about it?”
“I remembered some more details, like Mabry said I might.” He looks at me. “I thought we could talk again.”
Just then, Abe turns the corner, circle-kicking in our direction. When he gets close, he crouches, circling his rigid forearms in front of his chest. Then he wails “Eeee-yaaah” and lunges forward into a high kick.
“Dude,” Nick laughs nervously. “Awesome.”
“Yeah, well, come on, then,” Abe says. We hear Patrick’s warrior cry from somewhere not too far away. “Dojo’s in the math hall today.”
“Cool. I’m coming.” Nick breaks into a grin and bursts forward in a run. Then, as if just remembering us, he turns around. “Sorry,” he calls to me. “I’ll find you tomorrow.”
I watch him go, allowing myself to luxuriate in his words. They echo through me. I’ll find you tomorrow, I’ll find you tomorrow. That’s what his lips said. But I’m pretty sure I felt his heart add, because without you, I’m lost.
Sirina looks at me with disapproval. “Oh my god, you’re swooning. You’re actually swooning.”
“What?” I say, like it’s ridiculous. “I am not.”
“You are. It’s a good thing he ran off so quickly. You’re being so obvious right now.”
I start to defend myself, but she says, “Don’t worry, Mabry. I can read you. I know you’re trying.”
I am? I almost ask, but instead say, “You do?”
“Yeah, I don’t think you said a single word to him. You totally ignored him. Good job.” She squeezes my arm. “I know it’s not easy.”
I give her a little smile. She has no idea how not-easy it is.
yo busco
tú buscas
ella busca
nosotros buscamos
ellos buscan
That afternoon, I sit down at the table in front of Macho Nacho with Thad and steal a chip, dipping it into his bean dip.
“Would you like a chip?” he asks sarcastically.
“Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not really. “Guess what?”
“Hmmm.” He tilts his head to his shoulder. “You’ve recently discovered a huge wart on your pinkie toe?”
I just look at him.
“No, you’ve recently discovered a huge wart on Nick’s pinkie toe? No, wait! The finger he uses to pick his nose!? Does he still do that when he thinks no one’s looking?”
I blow out a breath and stare at the ceiling.
“Am I close? Hot or cold?”
“Ice-cold,” I say. “You know, it’s really hard to give you good news.”
“Good news?” he asks. “Does that stuff still exist?”
I ignore him. I plant my hands flat on the table and lean forward. “I did what you said. For three days, I ignored him like crazy. But today, he practically hunted me down.”
“What do you mean ‘hunted you down’? For what? Your pelt?”
I roll my eyes. “He just wants to talk some more.”
“About what?”
“Well, he says he remembered some more stuff, you know, about the window incident, but maybe that’s just an excuse.…”
He is staring at me, his chin jutting forward and his eyes all buggy.
“What?”
“No way. You’re killing me, Collins. Don’t do it. You just can’t.”
I let my mouth drop open. “What are you talking about? How am I supposed to”—win him back—“break his heart if I can’t even talk to him? And don’t forget, you said I only have to ignore him until he starts looking for me.”
He begins to shake a little, like there’s some sort of tiny earthquake going on. It takes me a second to realize it’s just his heel bouncing up and down under the table.
“Anyway,” I say, “I need to talk to him. Don’t forget, I need him for the YoJo.”
“Yeah, that’s what’s ridiculous. You and Sirina think you’re going to win some award for a news series about a broken window? Come on, Collins. Write about something that matters.”
“Like what?”
“Like a zillion other things.”
“Well, it’s the most interesting thing that’s happened. I mean, I know they’re probably rumors, but what if it was a murderer who broke the window? It’s actually true about the prison escape—my friend Jordan’s neighbor’s uncle works at the prison, and he said so!”
He exhales and looks up at the skylights in the ceiling over the foo
d court. “The guy’s just using you and you’re totally letting him.”
“Just admit, for a second, that it’s possible that he misses me.”
“He hasn’t even had a chance to miss you. Until you started writing about him, he was running down the halls to avoid you, right?”
“Right,” I grumble.
“And he has to really miss you if you want him to…” He looks at me. “Do I have to say it?”
“Yes,” I say, slightly enjoying his discomfort. “You do.”
He makes quote marks in the air with his fingers. “‘Fall in loooove’ with you and ask you to that stupid dance.” He puts his hands down and shakes his head. “Just, like, for a while, pretend he doesn’t exist. Make him wonder, Where is she? What’s she doing?”
I sigh. Would he wonder those things? Could he wonder those things?
Thad continues. “In fact, here’s your next assignment: find a replacement for Nick.”
“A replacement?” I ask. For Nick? There’s no such thing.
“Someone else to talk to. Just enough to make him a little jealous.”
Jealous. Okay, if I really were Mariela, this wouldn’t be hard. But no matter what I do, in my heart, I’m a lot more like Cristina, devoted and loyal, pining after Luis, wanting nothing more than his safe return.
“I don’t really like anyone—” Thankfully, I stop myself before I accidentally add else. “Not in that way.”
“You don’t have to ‘really like anyone,’ genius. It’s just a game, like the rest of the love stuff you believe in.”
I ignore that comment. “Hey, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You could meet me after school, like, right after the bell rings, and maybe—we could stand by his bus and, I don’t know, laugh, and maybe for like two seconds, we could hold hands—”
He is shaking his head very fast. “Nope. No way. There’s noooo way that I’m going to your school.”
“Fine, somewhere else, then. I pretty much know where he is at all—” I drop that sentence like a hot potato as soon as I realize that I indeed do sound like a stalker.
“Nope. I’m good here. And it doesn’t really matter, because I’m not that guy.”
How to Break a Heart Page 9
